


Docile as a Dove

by thegreatpumpkin



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:32:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4058422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/pseuds/thegreatpumpkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Arwen was into the babbling and giggling and early walking stage, the twins were much more amenable to entertaining her for stretches of time. They’d been too polite to say it, of course, but an infant who did nothing exciting except occasionally squall her displeasure held no interest for them, grown as they were. Now that they could make her laugh, they were far more attentive brothers. (Elladan and Elrohir take baby Arwen on adventures. AKA pure fluff.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Docile as a Dove

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for the tolkiensecretartexchange on Tumblr!
> 
> becomingbaker asked for “something a funny/slapstick oneshot about elves, set in any elf kingdom ie. Rivendell, Mirkwood, Lothloren, etc. Or a story about any LOTR/Hobbit character as a child?”

The scene was delightfully domestic—or at least, as domestic as this particular family was likely to get. The lady of the house shared a worktable with her husband, each with various papers and ledgers spread out before them; but they laughed and talked as they worked. Their sons, alike in countenance but very different in dress, sat side-by-side in chairs backed up to the hearth, though it was too warm just now for a fire. The one in green robes held a bright-eyed baby with a shock of black hair, cooing at her as his twin—less formal in tunic and trousers—led an enthusiastic game of peekaboo.

Celebrían shared a warm look with Elrond as their children laughed. Now that Arwen was into the babbling and giggling and early walking stage, the twins were much more amenable to entertaining her for stretches of time. They’d been too polite to say it, of course, but an infant who did nothing exciting except occasionally squall her displeasure held no interest for them, grown as they were. Now that they could make her laugh, they were far more attentive brothers.

Celebrían finished a column of numbers and laid her quill aside, pouncing the page to dry it. “Elladan, love, will you check these figures? My eyes are beginning to cross.” She had taught him to do the household accounts as her father had taught her; both of the boys were good with numbers, but Elladan enjoyed them the way she did.

Elladan passed his sister to Elrohir, then came and fetched the ledger, settling back into his chair to review it. After a brief scan, he said, “Aren’t these last month’s?”

“Unfortunately. I’m working my way down the stack to this month’s. Your sister has a way of knowing when I’m trying to get work done.”

Elladan grinned at Arwen. “Attagirl. Causing trouble from the very start.” Looking back to Celebrían, he said, “We could help, Naneth.” She expected him to volunteer to take over the accounts, an offer she would have declined—she did trust him with it, but there was a certain way she liked things done. Instead, he surprised her. “Elrohir and I could take Arwen every now and again, if it would help. She seems happy enough to let you work right now.”

She did, indeed, seem enthralled with her brothers. She rarely went this long without fussing when held by anyone other than her parents. At the moment each of her tiny fists was wrapped around one of Elrohir’s braids, yanking them by turns; Elrohir had grabbed the hair above her grip to save his scalp, and was patiently explaining to her that she had to be gentle (for all the good it was doing).

Celebrían considered the offer. They might not have babes of their own yet, but her sons were patient and kind. There weren’t many children in Imladris, but they were both good with animals, and obviously Arwen adored them. Well, why not? It couldn’t hurt to have a trial run, at least. Elrond’s duties as the lord of the valley made it rare that he could take her, and while Celebrían’s handmaiden tried her best, Arwen would only suffer Hebeth’s caretaking for a few minutes before starting to howl.

“That _would_ make things easier, if she will cooperate.” It wasn’t just the accounts that had been pushed aside. Celebrían had forgotten how exhausting it was to mother a little one, now that the boys were grown. (Admittedly, she had also fooled herself that it would be easy with only one babe instead of two. It might have been _easier_ —it was hard to recall—but it was certainly not _easy_.) She gave an involuntary sigh, thinking how nice it might be to have an uninterrupted hour to nap, or work at her garden, or—

“I think there’s no greater kindness you could do your mother at the moment,” said Elrond, recognizing that sigh. He affixed his seal to a letter, then pushed it aside. “Either one of us, really.”

“It’s settled, then,” said Elrohir, lifting Arwen up high as she kicked her feet and giggled. “What do you think, little sister, shall we have some adventures tomorrow after breakfast?” He listened very seriously to her nonsense syllables for a moment, then nodded sagely. “Yes, I think so too. I’m glad we’re all in agreement.”

_Ah,_ thought Celebrían fondly, _if only I could press this moment like a flower and keep it for when they are all grown and gone._

Then Arwen started shrieking gleefully just to hear the sound of her own voice; the twins swore in unison as they tried to cover their ears; Elrond scolded them for language in front of their soon-to-be-speaking sister; and Celebrían thought, a little guiltily: _though I certainly wouldn’t mind a break from all three._

❀

In the morning, after Arwen had nursed and put away a surprising quantity of barley porridge for such a small creature, her brothers came to steal her away. They listened patiently to Celebrían's instructions—or at least, they pretended to. In reality, the only thing either one of them absorbed was the last bit: "And if she won't cooperate, no harm done. I'll be right here, you can bring her back whenever she starts to fuss. Even if it's only been a few minutes."

The twins exchanged a significant glance. Perhaps their mother hadn't meant it as a challenge, but it was one now. "Don't worry, Naneth," said Elladan brightly as he turned back to her. "She'll be docile as a dove. You won't hear a peep until evening."

"Before that, I hope. I'll need to feed her in a few hours—" But they were already halfway out the door. Well, they would find out soon enough. Arwen was quite definite about mealtimes.

Elladan and Elrohir had decided over breakfast to take their sister out to enjoy the sunshine. It was a fine day, cool and bright, and already there were rainbows sparkling in the mist from the Bruinen's falls. They planned to take an easy hike—a short distance for short legs—and have a picnic lunch before bringing a (hopefully napping) Arwen back to their mother.

At first it seemed like a grand adventure. Arwen was delighted to be set down on the forest path, surrounded by interesting things like leaves and rocks that did not feature in her usual environment. Elladan and Elrohir grinned at each other as she bent her knees with excitement (actual jumping was, as yet, beyond her abilities) and shouted her surprise at any wildlife unwise enough to still be nearby.

She wouldn’t let either of them take her hand, but that was all right. It wasn’t as if she had the speed to get away from them. That turned out to be a problem of its own, though; a single step of her brothers’ was nearly ten of hers, and that was assuming she was even moving in the proper direction.

“Maybe we should tie a tether to her, if she doesn’t want her hand to be held,” Elladan suggested, the fifth time she had started to wander back the way they’d come.

Elrohir’s mouth quirked. “Shall I get one of the training leashes I use on my hounds? Or put a jess and bells on her ankles and hood her like a hawk?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Elladan sighed, fondly exasperated. “I just thought it might keep her moving the right direction.” He glanced down at Arwen and smiled despite himself. “Though you have to admit the bells would be charming.”

Arwen smiled sweetly back and held out a stick for him to take. “Abafo.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and tucking it carefully into his pocket. Glancing back to Elrohir, he went on, “We might have to carry her, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, come on. We’re not in any hurry. What’s the harm?” Elrohir laid a hand lightly on the top of Arwen’s head, an affectionate gesture, but she squashed her face up and pushed clumsily at him until he withdrew it, laughing. “Eru help us when she learns the word _no_.”

“She will be a little tyrant, that’s certain.” Elladan, impatient, turned and walked backwards on the path, getting ahead of his siblings a bit.

“Arwen,” Elrohir said, bending down, “can you get Elladan? Over there?” She looked up at him, either uncomprehending or simply unwilling, so he went on, pointing. “Elladan. Can you get him? Go get him!”

She took a few uncertain steps towards Elladan, who mirrored her with a few tiny steps backwards. Suddenly catching on to the game, she squealed and moved forward with greater focus, Elladan inching back as she came on. “I bet you can’t get me!”

“That’s right, get him!” Elrohir laughed, ambling along at Arwen’s heels. By this method they were able to speed her along a _little_ , even if she was still frequently distracted by the sights and sounds around them.

“She’s competitive, I think,” Elladan chuckled as she charged forward.

“So were we.”

“But we had one another to compete _with_.” Elladan glanced down suddenly. “Wait, what do you have in your mouth? What are you eating?” He dropped to his knees, peering into Arwen’s mouth. “Oh no, spit that out! That poor ladybird! Not for eating, Arwen!” He rescued the hapless insect before too much harm could be done, letting it fly free before it was too sodden with baby spit to get airborne.

When he glanced up, Elrohir had his hands pressed over his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hide his amusement. At Elladan’s glare he drew a long breath and said, “I know. I know I’m not supposed to laugh and encourage her, but—” His face changed suddenly and he went off into another gale of helpless laughter; Elladan realized in dismay that Arwen, deprived of her prize, had decided instead to taste-test a fistful of the trail dirt the moment he’d looked away.

“Some help you are!” he hissed at his brother, digging out a handkerchief to try to clear as much of the dirt from her tongue as possible before she swallowed it. “We are definitely carrying her from here on. And when I say we, I really mean _you_.”

Elrohir held up a hand, still wheezing, though he nodded in acknowledgement. Even Elladan had to admit it was a _little_ funny, though he still made a face at Elrohir when he scooped up their sister and passed her over.

She might have protested, except that she was fascinated by Elrohir’s braids, more elaborate and heavily adorned than Elladan’s. To both their relief she contented herself tugging at the beads and clips that sparkled in his hair for several minutes. It hurt less than her yanking on the braids directly, and if she managed to get them in her mouth, well, at least they knew where Elrohir’s decorations had been—and they weren’t a choking hazard when still attached to him.

They took their time on the path, enjoying the morning. Elladan took to pointing out birds and small animals for Arwen, naming them as he did; she copied the pointing if not the naming, so then he began naming anything she pointed at, himself included. They picked flowers, Elrohir tucking one behind Arwen’s ear, which she promptly grabbed and shoved into her mouth. It wasn’t a toxic plant, so he let her discover on her own that it wasn’t particularly good to eat.

After the third time Elrohir shifted Arwen to his opposite side, Elladan gave him a pointed look. “Is our tiny sister too much for you?”

“She’s heavier than she looks!” Elrohir said, defensively. “And a bit awkward to carry, after a time.”

Elladan pounced on that, mocking him cheerfully. “I held her yesterday. She can’t weigh more than a stone, stone and a half. Not even a fraction of what your armour weighs! Have you been neglecting your training for all your lore?”

“It’s different,” Elrohir growled. “You take her, if it seems so easy.”

“Poor beleaguered scholar. Give her here.” Arwen was handed from one to the other. “You’re not heavy at all, are you, little sister?” She gave Elladan a sloppy baby kiss—either that or tried to eat the side of his face—it was hard to tell at her age. Elrohir rolled his shoulders and Elladan rolled his eyes.

They had not even walked another quarter of an hour before Elladan began looking decidedly fidgety, though he determinedly refused to shift Arwen to his other hip. Elrohir smirked. “Not as tiny as she seems?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Elladan was saved from making up an excuse to shift her, though, as he suddenly realized in a most disagreeable way that she was wet. “Oh, bloody—!” He held her out at arm’s length. “Bring the bag, Ro, I think she needs a change of ensemble. And I’m going to need a wash.”

Getting her out of her wet things was not particularly challenging, and they were close to the river, so Elladan could wash his hands and rinse Arwen’s things. Getting her back into the dry set, however, proved to be a challenge.

“How does this fold?”

“Wait, did this pin in the front?”

“I think it wraps around like this—”

Arwen was _not_ amused. At last they made their best guesses and bundled her into her wrappings before she had a meltdown, Elrohir pulling a fresh pinafore over her head and then ducking back as if she would explode. She didn’t, of course; and after a moment her temper subsided, distracted by a butterfly wheeling overhead.

“Perhaps we should have listened a bit better to Naneth this morning,” said Elrohir, holding up a bundle of fabric. “This was in the bag with her other things.” It was a sling for carrying something—or, well, some _one_ —just of Arwen’s size. They grinned sheepishly at one another, then Elrohir shrugged into the sling and Elladan helped put Arwen into it. The sling put her on Elrohir’s back, facing outwards; it also made her _infinitely_ easier to carry.

Elrohir glanced over his shoulder and winked. “Shall we take her on a run? We’ve already overshot our original lunch spot, and we could make it to the nice falls if we pick up the pace a bit.”

Elladan was off in a flash, Elrohir tearing after him. They were not entirely elven by blood, but they did have the full share of elvish grace; their strides were long and smooth even in the rough terrain of the woods, and Arwen was not jostled at all. She was, in fact, overjoyed at the sudden speed, giggling gleefully and drumming her small heels against Elrohir’s back. Thus encouraged, the twins ran fleet as deer through the underbrush, leaping fallen logs and the rocks flanking the river.

❀

Celebrían had lingered over breakfast in a way she was rarely able to anymore. She had finished last month's accounts and caught up on this month's; penned a long-overdue letter to her parents thanking them for a book they'd gifted her; even spent some time on the deeply guilty pleasure of actually _reading_ that book. (Guilty because there was yet so much to be done with her garden, her embroidery, her work as chatelaine—but with the immediate fires put out, a moment of complete leisure was irresistible.)

Still, there was something nagging at the edge of her consciousness. Since Arwen's birth they had barely been further apart than one room and the next, and then only when one or both were sleeping; the lack of interruption put Celebrían ill at ease when everything in her was conditioned to respond the moment her daughter required something. As the morning wore on, she grew more and more distracted, and by the time Elrond joined her for the noon meal her unease had escalated into worry.

Elrond, of course, was less sensitive to the quiet—he was an attentive father, but since he obviously couldn't nurse Arwen, he simply hadn't developed the same habit of vigilance. "Stop fretting. They're doing exactly what we've asked them to, which is to take her while you get some work done. They told us this morning they were taking her on a walk."

Celebrían sighed, laying her fork down. She was generally quite practical-minded, with her mother's intellect and her father's capacity for calm, but at the moment she felt it was beyond her reach. "They've been gone all morning. What if one of them were hurt?"

Elrond smiled and squeezed her hand. "If Arwen were hurt, they would bring her back right away. If either of the boys were hurt, the other would have come back for help. And I find it _extremely_ unlikely that both of the boys would be so hurt in our own woods that neither one could go for help. Since they are not currently present and shouting, I can only conclude that everyone is fine and they will be back soon."

She bumped his shoulder with her own and smiled, grudgingly. "Stop being so logical. You sound like my father."

A wicked smile flickered briefly across his face, then smoothed out into an overly solicitous expression. He dropped his voice soft, leaning in with mock-earnestness. "Celebrían, darling, would you like to talk about the feelings this separation from your children is bringing to the surface? Why, I remember the first time your mother and I had to leave you, it was very emotionally complicated. Maybe together we can untangle—"

"Stop it," she hissed, but her cheeks twitched with the effort of holding back her grin.

Elrond patted her hand and gave an exaggerated nod. "I understand. Sometimes we aren't quite ready to explore our own emotional landscapes. I do have a historical treatise on the subject—"

" _Stop_ ," Celebrían said again, but this time it was through badly-suppressed giggles. "That doesn't sound like him at all!" Elrond only raised a skeptical eyebrow; they stared each other down for a moment, then both burst into laughter.

If he couldn't always soothe her, he could usually distract her.

❀

Their children reached the falls early, which was a stroke of luck. Just as promised, Arwen was making it known—at as high a volume as possible—that she was ready to eat. Elrohir unpacked her from the sling as Elladan unpacked the food, both as quickly as they could manage; Elrohir kept up a steady stream of assurances that they would be eating _in just a moment, we promise, really, if you can just be patient for a bit longer_... It didn't appease Arwen, but it made him feel a bit less frantic.

At last the food was out and the blanket spread. Elladan quickly sliced up a strawberry and passed it over—Arwen promptly and delightedly got a fistful of strawberry mush in each hand and tried to put it all in her mouth at once. Most of it ended up on Elrohir’s shirt instead.

They quickly realized that their mother’s ability to eat her own meal while also feeding Arwen was a learned skill. Their sister alternated between trying to take Elrohir’s food out of his hands, throwing her own food, and squealing for more. At last he gave up and traded off with Elladan, one feeding Arwen while the other stole a few bites of his own lunch; it was a tedious, messy process. They all ended up a little the worse for wear—Arwen especially, who was sticky and stained from top to toes, with cheese crumbs in her hair and leftover porridge smeared up to her eyebrows.

Elladan tried to wipe her face, to little avail. “I think we’re going to have to give her a bath. We can’t take her back to Nana and Ada looking like this.”

Elrohir agreed. “Flip a coin for it? Heads or tails?”

Elladan chose tails, and summarily lost. He stripped down to his braies and waded into the river at a calm spot above the falls carrying Arwen, while Elrohir began packing up their lunch on the bank. The day had warmed some and the water was brisk but pleasant—at least, Elladan thought so.

Arwen disagreed. The moment he waded deep enough for the water to touch her, she screwed up her face and began to scream.

He exchanged a helpless look with Elrohir, who shrugged apologetically. He was half-tempted to jump out again and forget the whole thing, but Arwen was a mess, and now they were both wet besides. So he sighed, set his shoulders, and began scrubbing his squalling sister down as gently and swiftly as possible. She did _not_ make it easy.

“How on Arda does Naneth get _anything_ done?”

“To be fair, she does preheat the bathwater,” Elrohir observed from the water’s edge.

“Not helping.” With a last swipe of the cloth, Elladan deemed his charge clean enough to pass muster, then sloshed his way back to shore. Even dried with the picnic blanket and bundled back into her wrappings (no easier the second time) and pinafore, Arwen continued to wail.

“She thinks you betrayed her,” Elrohir said, sympathetically. “Here, let me take her while you dry off. Doesn’t she usually have a nap about now?” He took her, rocking and shushing, but it didn’t seem to help. Her volume decreased a little, but not because she was happier—she had traded the earsplitting shrieks for gulping sobs, making both of her brothers wince with guilt.

“Sing her a song,” Elladan suggested. “It always helps when Naneth does, right?”

“Yes, all right.” That seemed like a good suggestion, except...Elrohir’s brain was suddenly blank. Every song he’d ever learned fled in the face of toddler tears. All the historical ballads, all the lullabyes their parents had sung them vanished; he cast about desperately for something. At last a Westron melody came to him, and he began to hum it, then murmur the words without really fixing on their meaning.

To his relief, it soon began working. Arwen’s sobs slowly subsided into hiccoughs; it was only when he glanced up and saw the expression on Elladan’s face that he realized what he’d been singing. They had learned a great many things in their associations with the Edain, including a number of highly inappropriate songs meant to be sung at the top of one’s lungs while reasonably inebriated. This was one of those—a cheerful ditty about a young lady who had lost her key, and all the young men who offered to try theirs in her lock until one fit just right. Elrohir put a hand over his face, chagrined. “Don’t you _dare_ tell Adar.”

Elladan cackled. “At least it was in Westron. Even if she parrots some of it, they won’t realize it’s more than nonsense. And it _did_ work, after all.” He lowered his voice and pointed—Arwen’s eyes were nearly closed, her head drooping against Elrohir’s collarbone as if it had grown suddenly too heavy to bear. It _was_ nap time, it seemed.

“I suppose. Next time, _you_ can sing to her.”

❀

Elrond had run out of distractions by the time they returned. Celebrían was watching from their balcony, pacing as if she might go down herself and search them out at any moment. When at last they emerged from the trail hale and whole, Arwen soundly asleep on Elladan’s back, all the tension went out of her frame.

She still met them at the door, already easing a sleepy Arwen out of the sling before it had closed behind them. “How was she? You fed her, I suppose? And changed her, I hope...you must have, she feels dry. Did she fuss? Was she—”

“She was fine, Naneth.”

“No trouble at all.”

“It was—” the twins exchanged a look, grinned, and then finished in unison, “—easy.”

Celebrían gave them a suspicious look, but she couldn’t read anything in their faces.

Elrond couldn’t either, but he and Elros had been very much like them. Mildly, he said, “I suppose you wouldn’t mind taking her again tomorrow, then?”

Their expressions cracked, just slightly.

“Well, we might be busy—” said Elladan, at the same time Elrohir mumbled something about “Not until next week, at the earliest—” and Celebrían insisted, “Oh no, we wouldn’t want to impose upon them again so soon—”

They all fell silent for a moment, then started to laugh.

Arwen—having had a _marvelous_ adventure and then woken up surrounded by all her favorite people—laughed the loudest.


End file.
